


open up your soul and let it pour, flooded

by orphan_account



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-08 07:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21232379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sander's a vampire. Robbe doesn't know how to deal with that.





	open up your soul and let it pour, flooded

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN! i should have been working on my debate prep or my paper on sexual harassment but instead i wrote this. lmfao. it's weird. (title from TIDAL WAVE by chase atlantic)

They’re hanging out at the skatepark together, just them. The blunt they’ve been sharing between themselves is down to a sparkling nub, and the sun is setting, simmering red and orange and yellow in the sky. The hue reflects on Sander and makes his skin look alive and his eyes sparkle. In the distance a girl pulls an axle stall on the half pipe.

Sander’s arm is pressed tight to Robbe’s; he can feel every single shift Sander makes, can feel every single involuntary twitch and movement. The warmth of Sander’s body bleeds through his thin long-sleeve and he notices Robbe staring now and grins at him, eyes crinkling.

It’s the best time Robbe’s had in a while.

“Hey,” Sander says, ducking in closer and exhaling a cloud of smoke. Robbe tips his head up, closing his eyes. “I have to tell you something.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m a vampire.”

Robbe doesn’t open his eyes.

He’s not sure why he didn’t see it coming; good things usually never last for him.

\---

“Right, well,” Robbe sighs.

He’s on his bed, facing Sander who’s sitting astride. Sander’s eyes widen and he cocks his head, curious.

“Can I...see them?” Robbe asks, sticking his forefingers out beside his cheek, badly attempting to mime fangs. Sander’s face still looks open, searching Robbe’s, before he tips his head back, eyes fluttering shut.

Robbe watches the smooth column of Sander’s neck just like he did in the supermarket all that time ago. Sander is so beautiful; Robbe had realized a few nights ago that when his thoughts would drift from coursework they’d land on Sander instead of Jens nowadays.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to think about that.

His gaze drifts from Sander’s beautiful throat to his gaping mouth, and he can’t help it when he leans in to study Sander’s teeth. He’s paid a lot of attention to Sander’s lips and mouth in general the past few weeks and he can quietly confirm that those two sharp canines had not been present before.

He leans back, nodding to himself. Sander’s head tips back down, down, and he’s watching Robbe from underneath his lashes now, looking unsure.

Robbe rests a hand on Sander’s hand without thinking, squeezing in a way he hopes comes off as reassuring and not as terrified and odd as he feels.

\---

“Does Britt know?” he asks the next day.

They’re at the skatepark again. Sander is noisily plowing through a bag of chips. Robbe is watching him do this in a way someone could possibly construe as creepy.

“Nope,” Sander says around a wet mouthful, spitting a little in Robbe’s direction. Robbe doesn’t even flinch; he’s sort of gotten used to Sander’s uninhibited chaos.

Robbe hesitates, before asking, “Does Noor?”

Sander shakes his head no, sucking on two of his fingers. He doesn’t actually care much about skateboarding he’d confided to Robbe a while back, but he always tags along when Robbe says he’d heading to the skatepark to clear his mind. Robbe guesses Sander doesn’t understand the meaning of clearing one’s head; in fact, he’d not really be all that surprised if it was a completely foreign concept to Sander.

Robbe is silent for the next moments. Someone at the park is playing shitty Scandinavian EDM off their phone. He watches Sander tip the wrinkled bag back, dumping whatever is left of its contents into his mouth.

Robbe knows he’s paid special attention to Sander’s mouth since he’s met him, but he thinks it’s gotten a lot worse now.

“Does anyone know?” he asks after a while. Sander crumples the empty bag up in his hand before tossing it aside, where it rolls off the pipe and lands on the grass. A stoned-looking hipster dude yells at them from the ground. Sander yells back an apology before looking to Robbe.

“No,” he finally says, and then grins. “Except you, duh.”

\---

Robbe offers to walk Sander home from the skatepark a couple hours later. Sander bats his eyelashes in response.

“Oh, what a gentleman,” he says in a mocking tone, “are you worried that bad men are going to hurt me? Want to protect me?”

Robbe could go along with and smirk; he could agree and say that  _ of course I don’t want to let a pretty girl like you walk home alone in the dark.  _ But he’s never been that kind of person, so he opts for, “I just want to spend more time with you.” He doesn’t add  _ because I have so many more questions for you _ .

Sander falters at that, face going unreadable. He’s still for a moment before he begins walking.

“Do your parents know?” Robbe asks without thinking, jogging to catch up to him.

“I told you,” Sander says, tucking his hands into his pockets, “no one knows except you.”

“Can I ask why you haven’t told anyone else?” Robbe surmises the courage to ask.

Sander stops in the middle of the sidewalk. A woman on her bike narrowly avoids running them over. “Because it’s incredibly hard to tell someone,” Sander says lowly, eyes boring into Robbe’s. “Think about it. If you up and became a vampire one day... how would you tell people?”

Robbe is  _ so _ confused. He hadn’t even considered that Sander was perhaps turned into a vampire. He thought he was just born one. But then -- how would his parents not know? And --

He shakes his head. “Why did you tell me?” he asks.

Sander’s tightly-drawn face opens up a little at that, edges going warm. “I don’t really know,” he says, and starts walking again. Robbe follows. “Because you’re easy to talk to, I guess?”

Robbe is silent. Sander looks over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth pulling up a bit.

“Because I thought you’d actually believe me?”

“Oh,” Robbe says. Sander nods a little, as if to himself.

“Why  _ did _ you believe me, anyway?”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t freak out. You didn’t, like, laugh, or run away, or call me crazy or tell me to shut up.”

“Is that what you expected?” Robbe asks, genuinely curious.

Sander gives him a weird look. “Duh. I didn’t expect you to be so fucking calm, you know?”

“Right,” Robbe says, a little lightheaded. Sander is so close now. His eyes shine in the dark. “Stranger things have happened and all, I guess.”

Sander’s weird look still hasn’t dissipated. He’s so fucking beautiful. Robbe desperately wants to tangle his hands in that fucking hair. “ _ ‘Stranger things have happened?’ _ ” he repeats. “Like what?”

“I can’t really think of anything right now,” Robbe says, which isn’t exactly a lie.

“Damn, your life must be strange.”

It’s pretty true.

\---

“I know you wanna know,” Sander says out of the blue.

It’s a weekend, approximately two weeks since he’d told Robbe about --  _ that _ . They’re lazing on Robbe’s bed, some Québécois rap playing from Robbe’s phone, a few tattered comic books Sander had brought over occupying most of their attention for the past few hours. Robbe’s bedroom door is closed; outside, it’s raining heavily.

Robbe looks up from the page he’s currently reading, eyes half-lidded. His bones feel lazy. “What?”

“I know you wanna know,” Sander repeats, pushing himself up from where he was laying on his belly. “You wanna know how I became a vampire.”

_ Holy shit _ , Robbe thinks, pulse speeding up. “Well, it’s definitely up there as one of my priorities,” Robbe says.

Sander pauses, narrowing his eyes. “Your pulse,” he says slowly, and Robbe thinks his heart nearly drops out his ass. “Why did it start beating so quick?”

“I dunno,” Robbe says. He thinks,  _ why the fuck do you think?  _ Then, “you can hear it?”

“Nah,” Sander says, shuffling closer across the mattress. If Robbe’s heart was beating quickly before, it’s definitely close to leaping out his throat now. “I can sense it though. Super weird.”

“Right,” Robbe says for what he thinks is the millionth time that week. “So…”

“So!” Sander says, and then  _ literally _ straddles Robbe’s hips, plopping into his lap.  _ Hard _ .

“Uh --” Robbe says frantically, hands moving instinctively from his comic to Sander’s waist. Sander shifts, as if he’s looking for the most comfortable position. At this pace he’s going to get hard and Sander’s at the very least going to see it, if not actually feel it. “What are --”

Sander pauses, as if it crossed his mind to actually tell Robbe what he’s doing now. “You don’t mind, right?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and grinning. “It’ll be easier like this. I gotta make direct eye contact with you when I’m  _ baring my soul _ .”

In Robbe’s opinion, on the rare occasions he, for some reason, decides to bare his soul, he prefers avoiding eye contact at any cost. “Okay,” he quietly says anyway.

Sander grins harder, leaning in close to whisper in Robbe’s ear. “I was seventeen,” he says, and despite the fact that his voice is just --  _ right there _ , Robbe can barely him over the rush of his blood. “And we were on vacation, me and my family.” He pauses. “I don’t remember where the fuck we were.”

Robbe, despite himself, snorts. Leave it to Sander to forget a detail that big.

“Anyway,” Sander continues, “it was late at night and I wandered from our hotel, because that’s what I do. My parents didn’t mind because they knew I could take care of myself. And I usually can. But something felt so off that night. And I was about to find out what it was.”

He pokes Robbe’s cheek. “Tune in next time for the climax of --”

Robbe groans, dropping his head back. “Sander --”

“ _ Kidding _ ,” Sander says back. Robbe’s eyes shoot open. Sander’s voice came out sounding so hoarse and --

_ Holy shit _ . Sander is  _ flushed _ , staring down at Robbe with wide eyes, lips pressed in a firm line. They’re close enough Robbe can see the sweat gathering above Sander’s hairline.

Robbe is scared for the first time. He’s pinned underneath Sander, who is -- who is a vampire, right? It’s something Robbe’s forgotten, he thinks. He stares back, heart beating impossibly faster.

“What’s wrong?” he manages. Sander’s grip on the neckline of Robbe’s shirt tightens. His face is still closed off. He breathes in through his nose.

“You --” he says. “Your blood, I can --” He shudders underneath Robbe’s hands, and it’s so hot, holy shit -- “I can smell it, I can feel it, I can --”

Robbe absolutely freezes as Sander dips down again, nosing along the side of his neck. Every single bone in his body feels like it’s strained.

“I can hear it,” Sander finishes finally, breath hot and wet. Robbe squeezes his eyes shut.

He thinks he can literally hear his blood move through his body now too. He realizes then that he has so many questions. Sander still hasn’t told him how he was -- turned. No one knows he’s a vampire, so how does he drink blood? Does he wipe their memory or something? Does he kill people --? Does he even drink blood?

Robbe doesn’t know, and then Sander pulls back, gazing around the room confusedly. He wobbles in Robbe’s lap and Robbe steadies him, but Sander pulls back, sliding over to the foot of the bed.

They’re both breathing hard, watching each other carefully. Robbe licks his lips, eyeing Sander, who stares back, clutching his knee and panting.

“I think,” he says slowly, after a moment of silence has passed, “that we should -- talk about this, you know, instead of just --”

“Dancing around it?” Sander suggests. He’s still clutching his knee, like he has to have his hands hold onto something or he’s not sure what they’ll do, but his face has mostly returned to its normal colour. His eyes still seem dangerous though, but Robbe’s pretty sure they always do. “Ignoring it?”

Robbe stays silent, so Sander continues, “I told you and you never really said anything about it --”

“What? Did you want me to freak out?”

“No! No, I just --” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I wanted you to acknowledge it though, somehow. I don’t know.”

Robbe doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to not acknowledge it again.

\---

“So for real. How did you turn?”

“Surprise encounter on my vacation.”

“Jesus christ. How did your parents not notice?”

“I don’t know. I woke up with a big headache and was pretty pale for a few days but that was it.”

“Are you dead?”

“I think so. I mean, I don’t have a heartbeat.”

“Pretty sure that means you’re dead, dude.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“So, like...do you drink blood?”

“All the time.”

“Really?”

“No. It actually sucks, I never get to. I always try to go for someone but once I actually get to them and am about to feast I just feel too guilty.”

“You feel guilt?”

“Haha, you’re so fucking funny Robbe.”

“I know. So...if you don’t drink blood, how…?”

“Blood tablets. And raw meat, but only when I’m really desperate.”

“ _ Raw meat _ ?”

“ _ Animal _ meat, bro, chill.”

“I -- I cannot chill. You can’t just tell me to chill. This is --”

“I broke up with Britt.”

Robbe pauses, sitting up straight.

“What?” he asks. He knows Sander can hear his heartbeat pick up.

Sander gives him a crooked little smile “Yeah.”

Robbe stares at him, and Sander tips his chin up, a little defiant looking.

“So if you ever wanna make your move,” he says slowly, “because I’m not getting any younger, you know…”

Robbe doesn’t reply, so Sander says, “I mean, I’m not actually getting any older either, but. You know.”

Robbe cracks a grin, and makes his move.

\---

They’ve been making out for hours now. Sander had complained about it, but his arms were still wrapped around Robbe’s shoulders and he still kept pulling Robbe back down every time Robbe tried to pull away, so Robbe’s pretty sure his boy is just annoying and contradictory. He loves it.

Making out is all they’ve really been doing for the past week. Robbe’s avoided text messages from his parents, Milan and Zoë, and Jens for a few days now. He knows it’s going to catch up to him but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Not when a beautiful, flushed boy with warm skin and soft sweatpants is chilling in his bed, begging to be kissed every time Robbe even glances over at his coursework, laying spread out and abandoned on the floor ever since Sander shoved a hand down the front of his pants with a devilish grin.

Sander worms his hand back down the front of Robbe’s pants again now, staring at Robbe with such a wrecked look, hair plastered to his face with sweat, and jacks him off quickly. Robbe barely makes out the way Sander’s fangs extend behind his soft lips before his eyes close and all he can hear is the roar of orgasm washing over him.

When he comes to, wrapped in Sander’s arms, he taps his own mouth and mumbles, “teeth.”

Sander looks embarrassed. “I don’t know why they came out,” he whispers.

“Thirsty?” Robbe asks.

Sander doesn’t reply for a moment, and Robbe thinks he might have gone too far, when he hears an ever so quiet, “a little.”

Robbe can imagine.

Or, well, he can’t, but, like. You get it. “If you drank from me,” he says before he can let himself think it through, “I wouldn’t become a vampire, right?”

Sander snorts into Robbe’s shoulder. “No. That’s only if I drain all of you.”

Robbe thinks about seventeen year old Sander, drained of blood and lifeless in the dark on the cold ground of some foreign European country.

“Well,” Robbe says, and his dick twitches. He’s already just come and his pants are dirty. It hurts. Sander makes a noise that sounds like a pained little moan; he probably felt it. He hasn’t come yet. “Do you...do you want to…”

“I do,” Sander says. His voice is still muffled, face smushed against Robbe. “But I feel bad.”

No one’s ever made Robbe feel as exasperated as Sander, and Robbe knows his parents, and Jana and Jens and Milan and -- everyone, basically, makes him feel exasperated.

No one come close to Sander though.

In a lot of different ways.

“Why?” he asks, trying to be gentle. Now that he’s thought about it, he can’t stop. He suddenly wants it badly.

“I dunno,” Sander says. “It’s weird. I feel like I’m forcing you.”

“Definitely not forcing me,” Robbe says, strained. Sander finally pulls back enough to look him in the eyes and, wow. His pupils are blown. “I want it. I want you to, you know. Bite me.”

Sander stares.

“I know you want it too,” Robbe tries.

He doesn’t know how, but his axis is tilted and the world goes upside down in a split second until he lands on his back, breathing hard, Sander above him. They’re both shirtless, chests pressed together when Sander drops down from holding himself up on his forearms. The worn material of their sweats is all that’s between them when Robbe tries rutting against Sander, trying to gauge how sensitive he still is from coming.

“You really want it?” Sander asks, mouth pressed directly against Robbe’s ear. Robbe tangles his fingers in that platinum blond hair, panting like a dog and kind of embarrassed about it but mostly not.

“ _ Yes _ ,” he hisses.

\---

Robbe’s not sure what he expected it to feel like.

Sander licks his neck, hot and wet, and then Robbe feels them. They extend from Sander’s gums right against his neck, and Sander grinds against Robbe, so hard his back is tensing up underneath Robbe’s hands. They feel kind of blunter than Robbe thought they would, but still too sharp to be pressed up against his -- neck.

Then they sink in, and it’s weird, but.

All the stress and anxiety and weird feelings in Robbe’s body drains out the deeper they go, until they’re completely nestled in, and Robbe feels completely fucking free. He also comes again, which he’ll be embarrassed about maybe in a couple hours or so.

He comes because it feels like Sander is inside of him, which he’s dreamt about just a little bit since meeting Sander -- that, or being inside Sander -- but inside of him in a way even more intimate than like, standard penetration or whatever.

His fingers go lax on Sander’s back, legs twitching a little bit, and he watches the ceiling. It feels so good, being half-naked and warmed by Sander’s skin. It kind of vaguely freaks him out to be able to feel the pull of his blood but it’s mostly so good. Sander cradles his cheek, tongue pressed against his neck and drool dribbling down to the sheets of the mattress.

Sander pulls back then and Robbe feels empty. He thinks, fleetingly through the haze, about asking him to keep going until he’s drained, too.

He can’t though, because Sander kisses him then, jacking himself off and moaning quietly into Robbe’s mouth. He can taste his blood.

He won’t bring it up now, just allows himself to be kissed, holding Sander as he shakes through his orgasm, but reminds himself to definitely ask one day.


End file.
